


vii. omelettes

by icymapletree



Series: febuwhump/febufluff 2020 [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Dad Peter Parker, Febufluff, Fluff, Gen, Parent Tony Stark, family traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22603306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icymapletree/pseuds/icymapletree
Summary: “My dad taught me how to make omelettes,” Peter whispers. “He learned it from my uncle, who learned from their dad. It’s the only thing I know how to cook.”“Me too,” Tony said, “I know it’s pitiful for me,an adult, not knowing how to make anything else, but…”
Relationships: Ben Parker & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Richard Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: febuwhump/febufluff 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618837
Comments: 13
Kudos: 158





	vii. omelettes

**Author's Note:**

> drinking game! take a shot every time i say omelette! (actually don't-- i say omelette a lot in this asajdsif)
> 
> this is for the platonic febufluff prompt "discovering similar interests" but this one kind of got away from me so i've just titled it "omelettes."

A Sunday morning Parker family tradition was always omelettes. It started with Peter’s grandfather, William, who made them for his two sons, Richard and Ben. 

“Dad!” Ben would yell every time he cracked open his bedroom door. “It’s omelette time!”

William would scoop Ben up in his arms, kiss him on the cheek and say: “Yes, buddy, it’s omelette time.”

They’d make omelettes for about ten minutes, at which moment Richard would stumble out of his room at the smell of food, grinning. He’d sit on a barstool next to his mother and watch his father and older brother hurry around the kitchen.

When the omelettes were done and plated, the Parkers would sit at the kitchen table and tell jokes to one another, trying to see who could get the most laughs. It would last until afternoon, when they would then get dressed up to go to the synagogue for the Saturday afternoon service.

This is how it was, long after both boys entered high school. They were never too old for omelette time.

Even when the boys’ father passed away, Ben tried to keep the tradition alive.

They were college kids now, too broke to go anywhere out of state. But the cost didn’t matter, anyway - they stayed in the city because they had to take care of their mother.

Their parents were old, often getting confused for their grandparents during their childhood. It was no surprise that their mother got sick due to complications of old age, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Richard married before Ben did, despite being the younger sibling. She was a nice woman named Mary, a little bit shy, and a geneticist where Rich worked. 

Mary got invited to omelette time, now - Ben just happy to have three people to cook for.

Ben was engaged to a lovely woman named May when Mary announced that she was pregnant. When Richard found out, he made a frantic call to Ben super early in the morning because he didn’t know how to make an omelette.

It had scared the shit out of Ben, his phone ringing before the sun had come up. But Ben had just smiled when he heard Rich’s dilemma.

“Rich, an infant can’t even eat an omelette,” Ben had responded, “You have plenty of time to learn.”

“Oh. I guess you’re right,” Richard said, then hung up.

May was privy to the whole thing, lying next to Ben in their bed. She just shook her head fondly before going back to sleep, making some comment about being excited to have a nephew. 

When Peter was born, it was the greatest day of Ben’s life - he just didn’t know it yet. He was scared to hold the infant, he was so fragile. He almost didn’t seem real.

Ben spends a lot of time teaching Richard how to cook after Peter is born - Richard wants his son to feel the same love that he felt from a home cooked meal. Mary was almost as inept in the kitchen as her husband, so he takes the responsibility of learning to cook for Peter.

“It’s a lot easier than I thought,” Rich said after one lesson, chewing on his nail. Ben just laughed.

One morning, Mary straps her son into his highchair while Richard takes care of breakfast. She learned how to cook some recipes just from watching Rich, but it was always him who cooked in the morning.

“Mama,” Peter said, making grabbing motions with his hands.

“Breakfast is almost done, bug.”

“Mama,” he said again, his mouth falling open as he blinks.

Mary went to use her thumb to wipe some drool from his lip, but he swatted at her hand. Richard pressed a kiss to his wife’s temple and dropped some eggs on his son’s plate - cooked like an omelette, but then cut into strips to make it easier to eat.

Peter didn’t waste any time, he tried to eat them all at once. “Yummy!” he yelled, food falling out of his mouth.

Mary laughed, slinking an arm around her husband’s waist. She looked between her two boys, and wondered how she got so lucky.

**x**

It turned out that Parker luck had something to say about that. When Peter was five years old, he ended up being told that no, he’s not actually just staying the night at his aunt and uncle’s. The guest room would become his. 

The first time that Ben made him an omelette, he cried.

**x**

Tony looked up from his pan at the sound of soft footsteps coming down the hall. He smiled, whisking eggs together in a glass bowl. “Nice of you to grace me with your presence, sleeping beauty.”

“Hmpf,” Peter groaned, his fluffy hair sticking up in every direction and his pajama pants dragging on the floor. He promptly walked over to the couch and flopped onto it.

Tony laughed to himself, getting caught in the simple act of cooking. The sun was just peeking over the city’s skyline, streaming in through the ceiling to floor windows in Tony’s apartment.

It was boy’s weekend, with Pepper away for business and May leaving Peter with Tony because she had a busy week of work coming up. Peter knew he was a handful - he didn’t want to stress out his aunt when she needed to be resting.

Like the true teenager he was, Peter sat up at the smell of food. “Whatcha making?”

“Omelettes,” Tony shrugged. “Nothing fancy, it’s what Jarvis used to make me.”

Peter stilled ever so slightly. Tony picked up on it, and asked if he would like something else.

“No, no. Don’t change anything for me.”

Tony wanted to say that the point of him watching Peter _is_ for him to change his routine so they could do what Peter wanted to do. But that would’ve devolved into Peter saying that he’d be fine on his own, anyway, and somehow that argument would turn into a fight about Peter calling him Mr. Stark.

“Whatever you say, bud.”

When Tony flipped the two omelettes onto the plates, Peter had already migrated from the couch to the dining room. He looked hesitantly at the food when Tony set it down in front of him. Tony took his own spot at the table and began to eat. When Peter _still_ didn’t take a bite, Tony tilted his head.

“Y’know, it’s not poisoned, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Trust me, the last thing I ever want is to be privy to May Parker’s wrath for poisoning her nephew.”

Peter smiled, but it was forced.

“Remember how I told you that Jarvis taught me how to make these?”

Peter nodded, looking at his lap and pushing around the food on his plate.

“It was actually my father who suggested I learn how to cook something, at least. He said, and I quote, ‘If you’re going to continue to act the way you are, you won’t be getting any inheritance. You’ll need to know how to cook, so Jarvis, teach him how to make something’ 

“That’s great, Mr. Stark but--” Peter says quietly, but Tony doesn’t seem to hear him, just smiles, faroff in a memory.

“It was an empty threat, but Jarvis taught me anyway. And he said that I should just pretend I’m making them for my future kids, because this is what his father made for him. He said that he was passing on the favor.”

“My dad taught me how to make omelettes,” Peter whispers. “He learned it from my uncle, who learned from their dad. It’s the only thing I know how to cook.”

“Me too,” Tony said, “I know it’s pitiful for me, _an adult_ , not knowing how to make anything else, but…”

“No, no, no. It’s not embarrassing. I think it’s really sweet that Jarvis taught you that.”

Tony smiled, putting another forkful into his mouth. He looked at Peter, and wondered how he got so lucky. “I’m glad he did.”

**x**

“Dad?” Ben asked, peering up at his father. 

Peter hummed and peeked his head around the doorframe, a toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth.

“Can we have omelettes for breakfast?”

Peter turned to spit into the sink then looked back at his son. “Of course, buddy.”

Ben’s eyes lit up, and he jumped up onto his parent’s bed, waiting for Peter to be done getting ready. When his father was ready, the boy got scooped up into Peter’s arms and carried to the kitchen. 

As they walked down the hall, Ben rested his head on Peter’s shoulder. When they turned the corner, the first thing they saw was Michelle in the living room chair reading a book. 

“Are my boys gonna make me breakfast today?”

“Yes, mama,” Ben laughed, leaping down from Peter’s arms. Despite that Ben would be safe jumping down from a five-story building, Peter couldn’t help the way that his heart lurched. 

The little boy beelined straight to the kitchen drawers, pulling out a skillet. Peter retrieved the ingredients, as well as a step stool so Ben could reach the counter. Peter and his genetics somehow won out against Michelle’s when it came to height.

Ben liked to do the mixing, Peter handling everything to do with the stovetop. Someday, he’d teach Ben how to use the stove, but five years old seemed a little bit too early.

Soon, there were three omelettes set out on plates with various fillings that pertained to each member of the family. 

There was a knock at the door not long after they sat at the table, and to Peter’s surprise, Mr. Stark was at the door. Peter narrowed his eyebrows and turned to Michelle, who shrugged.

“I sent him a picture of you two cuties making omelettes. He came of his own accord.”

Peter rolled his eyes as Tony offered up an apology smile, but he let the man in anyway. May joined not long after, citing that she was attached on the text chain as well.

These small moments were what Peter’s grandfather would’ve loved to see. It’s certainly not the family he pictured, but the omelettes continued to be passed from generation to generation.

**Author's Note:**

> i love dad!peter
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/icymapletree)!


End file.
